A new leader takes charge, but his skills remain to be tested
In his first week in office, Yuri Andropov, the newly appointed head of the Soviet Communist Party, moved quickly and confidently to convey the impression that he was in charge. Meeting with the largest group of world leaders to converge upon Moscow in Soviet history, Andropov behaved with the consummate skill of an experienced statesman, stressing old alliances and signaling new approaches with a judicious handshake, a perfunctory nod or a quiet invitation for future talk.
The Soviet Union's first transfer of power in 18 years had apparently gone smoothly. Most important, the replacement of a leader who had been a virtual invalid for several years by a man with proven abilities as a decision maker offered hope that Moscow could finally begin to deal with issues that had long been neglected. Said a top British official: "The vibes we are getting from Moscow suggest a strong emphasis on continuity in domestic and foreign policy, but with the odds on longer-term initiatives in the economy and foreign affairs."
Yet no one could be sure that the leadership battle was definitely over. Although Andropov decisively occupied center stage at the elaborate ceremonies surrounding the funeral of his predecessor, Leonid Brezhnev, leaving any rivals far in the background, the country's gerontocratic leadership had not substantially changed. Only when Andropov faces this week's meeting of the 308-man Central Committee will his skills as a political infighter and his ambition to put his mark on the Soviet Union be tested.
The tone for the past week, indeed perhaps for the Andropov era, was set by the military honors that were accorded to Brezhnev on his final appearance in Moscow. The coffin carrying Brezhnev's body was borne from the House of Trade Unions, where it had lain in state for three days, by six high-ranking officers as a procession of generals and admirals carried his medals on red cushions. The coffin was placed on a gun carriage drawn by an amphibious army scout car, the modern-day Soviet equivalent of the traditional horse-drawn caisson. Soldiers with fixed bayonets goose-stepped alongside the carriage as a military band played Chopin's Funeral March. Said a Western diplomat: "It seemed as much a military event as the Nov. 7 parade."